Who Will I Be?
by LovePeetaM
Summary: Mitchie became famous and went on tour after her record song with Shane. They meet, once again, but Mitchie's changed into what Shane used to be like before he met her. Can Shane change her back? Will they have to go to Camp Rock to do it?
1. Connect 3

"Thank you everyone!" I cheered to the audience as I finished the concert. I could hear them shouting my name. "Mitch-ie! Mitch-ie! Mitch-ie!" I loved the sound of that. It was my name, my fame, my life. And I loved it. I got everything I wanted. Perfect!

"Mitchie, who was your inspiration?" one reporter asked.

"My inspiration is, well, myself. Who else?"

"How did you become famous?" another asked.

"I presented the greatest voice in the world—my own!"

After I was finished with the concert and the reporters, I headed home. Actually, to my own loft in Los Angeles, California.

As soon as I stepped into the loft, I dropped my bags. My butler picked them up and set them in their closet. Yes, my bags had their own closet.

"Sarah! Get me a Mocha Latte, lay off of the caramel!" I ordered.

"It's Susie."

"Don't back sass me. Or I'll have my manager fire you!"

"Yes, ma'am."

Yup, this was my personal life...and I loved it. I turned on the T.V. to M.T.V.'s TRL.

"_Next up, Mitchie Torres' new single, If I'm the Girl For You."'_

"Uh, Michelle so needs a tan. I mean, she looks albino. And she def. needs a new haircut. Long, black, and wavy is totally out for the season. Unlike my hair!" I chimed. "SALLY! LATTE! NOW!" I yelled. God, was she slow.

"It's Susie, Mitchie."

"I thought I told you never to call me by my first name. That's Ms. Torres to you." People! Uh!

After TRL was over I went to bed in my bedchamber. I had the best view in the whole loft. Awesome. I could see the stars. I was way prettier than any of the millions of them in the sky. I shined brighter than anybody in the world. I was the best of the best. And nobody could beat that. I would admire myself some more but some idiot drivers honked their horns.

"Shut the fuck up you assholes! Can't the world's most famous popstar get some beauty sleep?!" They honked some more, giving me a retort. "I'll have my lawyer sue all of you!"

"Uh, peoplel have absolutely no respect for me!" I muttered to myself. I climbed into my swinging canopy bed. "LIGHTS OFF!" I yelled.

---

After a peaceful night, I woke up to the bright morning sun. I slowly glided out of bed and to the downstairs.

"Sasha, get me some non-pulp organic orange juice. Pronto," I ordered, still sleepy from my beauty sleep.

"It's Susie."

"Whatever."

After five minutes of relaxing on the couch, whatever-her-name-was came over and handed me my drink.

"Today you have—,"

"You're speaking out of turn! Remember the rules? Jeesh, why did my manager hire you? You're terrible."

"Yes, would you like to hear today's schedule?"

"Why not? It's better than listening to the morning news. Not as good as hearing my own voice but everybody loves my voice anyway."

"You have a photo shoot for _Okay!_ Magazine this morning at 11 AM, lunch with your mother and father at 12:30, shooting for your new music video at 2 PM, and dinner with your manager at 6:30 PM." I sighed. "You should get ready now, Ms. Torres."

"Yes, I should..." I said sarcastically. "Who are you to tell me what to do?! You should be fired!" It was too bad I couldn't fire her. Only my manager could do that since he hired her and since she signed his contract. I had my own contract for her to sign, but no, his was more important! Jeesh! I'm the world's biggest popstar and John Davis thinks he's bigger than me?!?! Not a chance!

I flipped on MTV again.

"_Shane Grey is now accepting a full summer job as a camp leader at Camp Rock!" _

"Stupid Shane Grey. Thinks he's all goody-goody because he helps out kids at a Camp Rock."

"You did sing with him at the Final Jamz," whatever-her-name-was spoke.

"Talking out of turn again!" I screeched.

"You know, I used to be Mr. Grey's personal assistant." I just ignored her. So I sang with him once? I went on tour after that, progressing my own songs and they became bigger than his ever did. I was better than Shane Grey and Connect 3.

"_All of Connect 3 will be working at the camp this summer with an unknown surprise guest. We'll have the details when it is first announced. And you'll be the first to know."_

"All of them are pathetic. Sucking up to the public. Too bad it's my public now. Connect 3 is in the dirt and history."


	2. Here We Go Again

"Alright! That's it Mitchie!" the photographer complimented. I gave him my award-winning smile. "No, no, no. This is all wrong. Mitchie, dear, where did that fun-loving teen singer with a dream go? She was fabulous, but she's gone."

"She's right here!! Maybe it's just all of you people! Uh! I am OUT OF HERE! I can't deal with people like you!" I stormed out of the session and walked the streets of Los Angeles. Soon, a limo pulled up and took me straight to Paolo's. My parents would be there any minute. Traffic was horrible. "Come on! Let's move it!" I heard my driver sigh. "Like you have a better idea?!" I yelled at him. "You know what, I'm walking." I stomped out of the limo and walked right to Paolo's. It was only minutes later that I was attacked my paparazzi. I just marched my way through them without a word.

I walked into Paolo's. "Ms. Torres. Your parents are right here. Follow me."

"Peter, get me a more private table. That way no one else can admire my beauty and glare at me like complete idiots while I'm devouring my meal. And it better be a perfect one."

"Yes, Ms. Torres."

I followed him—he should be following me—towards the more private table in the back of the restaurant.

"Mitchie, we're—." I just held up my hand to my Dad. I walked past him, still following Peter to the table.

"Tell my parents to get over here, Peter," I ordered. He whisked over to them, whispering. Soon, they followed him and came over to our table.

"Oh, Mitchie! We've missed you so much!" My Mom literally choked me from hugging me so much.

"Um?" I gave Peter an ice, cold look. He pulled my mother off of me. "You don't speak to me unless I speak to you. And you don't touch me unless I allow you to."

"Mitchie, I'm your mother. I should be allowed to do that stuff without permission."

"And I'm Mitchie Torres, world-wide famous popstar, you do as I say." These people were going to completely destroy me. I glanced at the menu.

"Fetch me some sweetened ice tea with a lemon wedge, ice cold. I'm feeling very parched."

"Yes, Ms. Torres. And for you?" He asked my mother and father.

"I'll have a glass of water with a lemon wedge, please," my mother ordered.

"Same, please," Dad said.

"So. Why are we meeting here again?" I asked. I seriously didn't want to be here with my parents.

"To catch up. We haven't seen you in a while. So how have you been, Mitchie?" Mom inquired.

"The best. But people have no brains. It seems like I have to do everything on top of being a popstar. I mean, my personal assistant is being such an ass. She never gets anything right and I can't fire her because she only signed John Davis' contract and not mine. Now I have to deal with a screw-up. And during photoshoot, people were color blind. I was wearing blue plaid vests with neon-yellow pants. Ug-ly!" I ranted.

"We'll, we've been—," Dad started but my phone buzzed.

I held up a hand to him, "Gotta take this."

**Shane: **hello fab-u-lous.

**Torres: **ur a jerk. don't try and compliment me.

**Shane: **what'd i do this time?

**Torres: **camp rock? u kno tess tyler is there. i hate her mother. u can't interact with her.

**Shane: **so?

**Torres: **so her moms a washed up popstar

**Shane: **that has nuthin to do with tess tho, mitch.

**Torres: **i can't deal with u now shane.

**Shane: **ur becomin a real diva.

**Torres: **correction...popstar.

**Shane: **no, diva. like how i used to be. all snobby and self-centered.

**Torres: **whatev, ppl luv me. unlike u.

Peter came over.

"I'll have the sushi with no salad. And lay off the nuts. Also, only use cashews. Use salmon for the sushi not whatever the other stuff is and make it snappy," I ordered.

**Shane:** don't be like that.

**Torres: **im not talkn to u.

My parents ordered whatever they wanted. It was a very silent lunch. A break for me for once. But soon enough, the paparazzi corrupted the silent lunch.

I had finished my lunch without a word and left a $100 for Peter and the lunch.

"You're so worthless in that outfit, Peter, so keep the change and buy yourself a new wardrobe." Seriously? A black apron with a blue-collared t-shirt. Out of style and so hideous. Now, people admired my outfits so I had taste in fashion. You couldn't pay me enough to wear a chicken suit like Peter's outfit.

I got away from the crowding paparazzi and into the shaded limo. "Drive! I don't want to be a memory in this hollow place," I mumbled. The traffic seemed to light up a little. But, it was decent for Los Angeles. Of course, there was barely anything until I came here.

Soon enough, I got the set of my music video.

"Ms. Torres!" I held up my hand. "You're late."

"You're all early." I just walked onto set.

"3...2...1...go!" the camera man whispered.

"_I throw all of your stuffw away._

_Then I clear you out of my head._

_Tear you out of my heart,_

_And ignore all your messages._

_I tell everyone we are through,_

_Because I'm so much better without you,_

_But its just another break._

_Like us I break down,_

_Every time you come around._

_Oh, oh_

_So how did you get here under my skin?_

_Swore that I'd never let you back in._

_Should've known better,_

_Than trying to let you go,_

'_Cause here we go go go again._

_Hard as I try I know I can't win._

_Somethin' about you is so addicting._

_We're fallin together._

_You think that by now I know,_

'_Cause here we go go go ag—,"_

The drummer skipped a beat and the guitarist fell over. "UH! YOU PEOPLE HAVE NO IDEA HOW TO MAKE A MUSIC VIDEO!" I stormed off set and just ran home to my loft. On the way were some pictures of me and my new single 'Here We Go Again' or my other new single 'If I'm the Girl For You'. People had no idea how to do things my way. I was Mitchie Torres. If I didn't get my way, someone's gonna get hurt—or fired.

I looked down at my city, L.A.

"Ma'am, you're on MTV."

"Out of turn again, Sam."

"It's Susie."

"Whatever!" I flipped on MTV.

"_Is Mitchie Torres the new Shane Grey? Just this morning, Mitchie Torres stormed out of her photoshoot with Okay! Magazine, angry. Later she walks out through millions of paparazzi, insulting the waiter's style and ignoring her parents the entire lunch while texting. And just this afternoon, Ms. Torres was furious with her new music video staff, the drummer, and the lead guitarist for her new single, Here We Go Again, just as Shane Grey did a year and a half ago. We know Mitchie used to be this nice, adorable little teenager, but now she's gone all diva. Where's the Mitchie we all know and love?"_

"WHAT?!?! They think _I'm _the new _Shane Grey_? I'm only giving the publicity what they want. I could've had help from that at the photoshoot and the people at the music video set could've given me some more support. And I didn't tell Shane to text me at lunch. Besides, my parents know everything about me, what's there to talk about?! Uh!!!" I yelled. "I mean, you don't think I'm diva-ish, do you?" She just looked at me. "DO YOU?!?!?!" I screamed.

"No! Michelle's the diva, ma'am. Rumor has it she's completely jealous of you," she whimpered.

"You're right—for once."

--

Soon enough, it was time for me to go to dinner with John Davis, the manager.

"Mitchie!"

"John!" I gave him two air-kisses.

"Please have a seat," he offered.

"Thank you, John."

"We need to talk."

"That's what I'm here for."

"I saw what happened at the music video set earlier today."

"Oh, I know. I thought that if I've worked hard on this song that I should have great people who aren't clumsy and who are great at playing. The drummer missing a beat or two was terrible. And then the guitarist fell! If you ask me...pa-the-tic! I would've fired them years ago if I'd known they were that terrible."

"Mitchie, people make mistakes. And I'm not blaming the drummer or the guitarist. I'm blaming you."

"What?!"

"Mitchie, you can't just storm off of a set that has cost us thousands and thousands of dollars and ignore it. And you can't do that with a photoshoot. It shows bad publicity."

"I've got a great voice, how is that bad publicity."

"We, in this management, feel that your attitude has been unnecessary and as a punishment, you'll be working with Connect 3 at Camp Rock."

"That's unfair."

"No, working with you is unfair."

"We've called Shane, and he's agreed to help you find your innerself again. He'll be picking you up tomorrow morning at your home," he announced.

I said nothing, still utterly shocked by my cruel punishment. What had I done wrong?

"See you later, Mitchie. Oh, and have fun at Camp." I shuttered at the word. Camp was...ugh! This was going to be the worst summer of my life.


	3. Infuriated

I was asleep when my phone buzzed.

**Shane: **where r u?

**Torres: **sleepin u a** hole

**Shane: **ive been ringin for u for hrs. get dressd or we gunna b late.

**Torres: **late for wha?

**Shane: **camp! we have to be there in 45 min and its an hour drive.

Uh! I forgot about camp this morning. Guess it wasn't a nightmare.

**Shane: **lemme in and i'll help u pack

**Torres: **b rite down

"Sandy! Let Shane in the door!" I yelled. No answer. "SANDY!" Still no answer.

I got into the shower and when I got back out, I had one text message.

**Shane: **dont b falln back asleep.

I stomped downstairs and noticed a note on the counter.

_Ms. Torres,_

_I QUIT!_

_Susie._

"Who's Susie?" I asked myself. Then Shane rang the doorbell a million times.

**Shane: **i can c u in the windo...open the door.

I flicked him off through the window.

**Shane: **mitchie...lemme in. u can't get away from this. trust me, i've tried.

I just went and opened the door for him. He had his slick, black hair parted right down the middle. He looked exactly the same since the last time I saw him. The same dazzling smile. The same brown eyes. "Happy?!" I yelled.

"Thank you. Took you long enough."

"I was in the shower, and is that new slang or something?"

"The words _thank you?_ No, they're not. They're being polite. Obviously, you wouldn't remember them."

"I'm going to get dressed. You can search through all of this house to see what needs to be packed, _thank you!_" He laughed.

"No that's _please._ Thank you is after someone does something for you."

"Fine," I grumbled. "_Please?_"

"Okay."

"Is there anything specific that I need to get dressed in?" I asked nastily.

"Old jeans and and old t-shirt," he answered.

"Alright, _thanks._"

"Your welcome." I cocked my head. "It's what you say after someone says _thanks _to you."

"Oh, whatever." I raced up the stairs to search through my old stuff. I found a pair of designer ripped jeans that I hadn't worn since Miley's 16th birthday party. So old and so last year. And then I threw on this pink, one-shouldered, silk t-shirt that I wore to the High School Musical 3:Senior Year premiere. They were older than the stupid, out-of-style jeans. I ran into the bathroom and put on my makeup. I had to look perfect. I mean, I was Mitchie Torres. And Mitchie Torres doesn't go out without looking beautiful.

"Come on, Mitchie!" Shane yelled.

"You can't rush beauty, Shane!" I heard footsteps enter the bathroom.

"Mitchie..." he chuckled.

"What?" I demanded.

"You can't wear that shirt. It's too fancy."

"You said something old. And the last time I wore this was before yesterday." He laughed again.

"I'll help you." He dug through my drawers until he pulled out something so horrid and ugly that it burned my eyes to even look at it through a mirror. He was looking through my 'Ugly' drawer. Yes, I have an Ugly drawer.

"There is no way I'm putting that on."

"It's regulations for camp. You have no choice," he smirked evily.

"I really hate you, Shane Grey," I muttered, slipping on the lime-green t-shirt.

"You look pretty, though."

"Flattery, psh..."

"What? No _thanks _for the compliment?"

"No."

"You're harsh."

"Deal with it."

"Let's go."

"Let me just grab my Jimi Choos." He laughed again.

"What now? Are these the right jeans or did you want me to wear pink-leopard pants," I snorted.

"No." He tried to hide his smirk this time.

I ran off to get my tan-colored Jimi Choos and came back with them on. Shane was already placing my luggage in the trunk of the limo when I came out. Shane got in on the street-side of the limo. I waited for the chauffer to come around and open the door for me.

**Shane: **no chauffer to open door. do it urself

**Torres: **whos driving the limo?

**Shane: **me

I finally gave up and got in the passenger's side of the limo. "This sucks badly."

"If you're going to camp, you have to start doing things yourself, Mitchie. I won't always be there to baby you. And I'm certainly not going to baby you even if I am there," he said sternly.

"I opened the door for you this morning, I can do things by myself."

"But you don't know how to not have people do them for you. Do you know how to bake cookies?"

I looked at him strangely.

"I thought not."

There were minutes of awkward silences between us.

"So do you remember anything from camp?" he wondered.

"No, it sucked."

"Every bit of it?"

"Yup."

"Even kissing me?" I froze. I didn't like being reminded of crushing on him then.

"Yes," I answered, unsure of why I even said yes.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes," I snapped.

"Okey dokey, we're here." Shane pulled up to the parkinglot of Camp Rock. I could feel the warm, natural air around me. At that point, something was tugging on me from the inside. Memories swarmed in my memory. I shut them out. There was no way that Camp Rock was going to ever make me change who I was, who I'd been before I became famous.

I stepped out of the limo and I was surrounded by millions of campers. All wearing sweaty t-shirts. Totally disgusting.

"Hey, Mitchie," a familiar voice called. "Do you remember me? Caitlyn?" Caitlyn...Caitlyn...Caitlyn Granger? "I guess not. No one ever does."

"Caitlyn Granger, right?"

"So you do remember?"

"Hey! Mitchie! So nice to see you again!" Tess pulled me away. "How've you been? We definitely need to catch up from two years ago! So much has happened to the both of us! So how's fame?!" she crowded. Why not get to know her...keep your friends close, but your enemies closer.

"I need to go to my cabin."

"You can bunk with me."

"Actually, Tess, she's sharing a cabin with me and my brothers." I was _sharing_ a cabin with _Connect 3_?! I glared at Shane. He was giving me an evil smile in return.

"Great," I muttered under my breath. I stalked off, following Shane.

"I can't believe you're making me share a room with you idiots," I complained as we entered the cabin.

"Mitchie!" Jason screamed excitedly. He hugged me so tightly that I dropped my bags and stopped breathing.

"Why is he _touching _me?!"

"Because I'm happy to see you, silly."

"Did you get stupider over 2 years?" I snapped.

"Ouch! You're cold. And for that I'm going to hug you some more." He scooped me up once more.

"Uh! Get this idiot off of me _now_!" I screamed.

"Come on, Jason, share Mitchie." I looked over at Nate who was strumming away at his guitar. Jason released me.

"Thank you, Nate." He looked at me, shocked.

"Did you just say thank you?"

"You heard right, Nate. She knows please, thanks, and youre welcome." I glowered at Shane.

"Can I shake your hand or are you going to snap at me too?" Nate asked with a smile.

I just glared at him. "I need to call John." I scampered through my bags.

"I left your phone at home. My bad," Shane lied.

I wanted to kill him. "You _forgot _my phone?!?!"

"No, I purposely left it there." I wanted to tackle him.

"I'm going to kill you in your sleep."

"Ou—," Jason started.

"You, shut up!" I yelled at him.

"Well, someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning," Nate spoke.

"I'm going to go take a shower."

"You just took one an hour ago," Shane stated.

"Yes, but I've stepped in this disgusting place that I need another one." I stomped into the bathroom, infuriated that Jason had touched me, Nate insulted me, and Shane forgot—no, left—my phone back at home.

"She's going to be a handfull," I heard Nate say.


	4. Remember

I got into the shower, trying to wash away what seemed like a nightmare. I was trying to find my happy place—shopping in Beverly Hills with Donna Cabonna. As soon as I turned the water on, it was freezing cold. I screamed. I could hear someone—Shane, maybe—laugh from the other room. Someone else was playing guitar—probably Nate. I heard the TV being flipped on to SpongeBob—Jason, most likely. I could hear girls gossiping outside the cabin walls...about me. I smiled; I was the center of attention here—like Shane used to be when I went here.

Me at Camp Rock. That was a distant memory. I do remember how I met Caitlyn after bumping into Tess. I remember how Tess used to "rule" the camp, until Shane came into view. I shuddered at the thought of camp. I remember how _I_ was _kitchen help_. That was terrible—no, horrible. I can't believe I thought _that summer _was the best I'd had. The best one I'd had was when I was on tour and everybody loved me.

"Come on, Mitchie! We're going to be late!" Nate called. I hopped out of the shower, annoyed at Nate now. I ran towards my luggage, wrapped in a towel. "Whoa! Shutting my eyes!" Nate stated. I gave him a "Haha, very funny" face.

"I'm changing in the bathroom," I announced. I dressed into another ugly outfit that Shane had packed. "Done," I said, coming out of the bathroom.

"Wow, you got dressed all by yourself!" Shane commented sarcastically. I stuck my tongue out at him.

"That's better than I can do!" Jason butted in. Strange, strange Jason.

"That's great, Jason," Nate complimented in a lower tone.

"Are we going to go to the Jamz: Meeting thing, or what?" I snapped impatiently. I marched out the door and headed towards where the meeting was being held. I saw a stage; many camp rockers were in the crowd. I stepped up on stage, not knowing what to do. So I began singing.

_I throw all of your stuff away_

_Then I clear you out of my head_

_I tear you out of my heart_

_And ignore all you messages_

_I tell everyone we a through_

_Because I'm so much better without you_

_But it's just another break_

_Like us, I break down_

_Every time you come around_

_Oh, oh_

_So how did you get her under my skin?_

_Swore that I'd never let you back in_

_Should've known better_

_Than trying to let you go_

'_Cause here we go go go again_

_Hard as I try I know I can't quit_

_Something about you is so addicting_

_We're fallin' together_

_You'd think that by now I'd know_

'_Cause here we go go go again_

_You never know what you want_

_And you never say what you mean_

_But I start to go insane_

_Every time that you look at me_

_You only hear half of what I say_

_And you're always showing up too late_

_And I know that I should say goodbye_

_But it's no use_

_Can't be with or without you_

_Oh, oh_

_So how did you get her under my skin?_

_Swore that I'd never let you back in_

_Should've known better_

_Than trying to let you go_

'_Cause here we go go go again_

_Hard as I try I know I can't quit_

_Something about you is so addicting_

_We're fallin' together_

_You'd think that by now I'd know_

'_Cause here we go go go again_

_And again_

_And again_

_And again_

_I throw all of your stuff away_

_And I cleared you out of my head_

_And I tore you out of my heart_

_Oh, oh_

_Oh, oh_

_So how did you get her under my skin?_

_Swore that I'd never let you back in_

_Should've known better_

_Than trying to let you go_

'_Cause here we go go go again_

_Hard as I try I know I can't quit_

_Something about you is so addicting_

_We're fallin' together_

_You'd think that by now I'd know_

'_Cause here we go go go again_

_Here we go again_

_Should've known better_

_Than trying to let you go_

'_Cause here we go go go again_

Everyone clapped for me like every crowd.

"That was great, Mitchie, but you weren't supposed to perform," some ug-face lady said to me. "Please step off the stage."

I did. "_Your welcome_," I inquired, eyeing Shane. He winked at me.

"Hello all camp rockers!" the ug-face lady announced. "My name is Jeanie." Oh, yeah. That was her name. Ug-face Jeanie. She looked like a hippie from the 1960s. She looked like she was from the 1960s. I walked over to Shane.

"Do you remember Jeanie?" he asked me. I nodded. "Good."

"Now the rules are to be who you wanna be and HAVE FUN!!!" Oh, yeah. I definitely remembered the squeaky-high, perky voice of hers.

"Hey, Mitchie, good to have you back," some guy said from behind me.

"Do you remember Uncle Brown?" Shane asked me.

"I have an Uncle Brown?"

"Well, no, he's Uncle Brown to me...Brown to you."

"How've you been?"

"Terrible. I had to shower in cold water and step in dirt wearing my Jimi Choos. It's going to take days to get the dirt off these," I complained.

"Remember what's in here," he said to me, pointing to my heart. Then he walked away.

"Now, this year," Jeanie Ug-face started again, "We have four celebrity camp counselors. Please welcome Shane, Nate, and Jason." The three of them went up on stage as everybody clapped for them. "And our last celebrity camp counselor is...Mitchie Torres!" she yelled. I gracefully walked up on stage and blew kisses to everyone.

"See, Shane, they love me." He just shrugged his shoulders.

"They love me, too," he challenged.

"Yeah, but they love me more than you."

"I'm a better singer." Oh. No. He. Did. Not.

"Yeah, I can hear the dogs howling every night for you," I joked.

"No, I'm bringing joy to my fans."

"Well, at least I _have _fans."

"Ouch," was all he said.

"Yeah."

"At least the public loves us," Nate butted in, enjoying our bickering.

"At least I don't look like a poodle."

"Hey, no one makes fun of the hair." I laughed.

"Now, Connect 3 is going to sing us a song," Jeanie the ugly announced. I saw Nate and Jason grab two acoustic guitars and Shane grab the mic.

"'Sup, guys? We have a very special song that we're going to sing right now. It was written by us back when I first showed up at Camp Rock," Shane said.

_It's been on that radio_

_As loud as it can go_

_Wanna dance until my feet can't feel the ground_

_Say goodbye to all my fears_

_One good song may disappear_

_And nothing in the world can bring me down_

_Hands clapping_

_Hips shaking_

_Heart breaking_

_There's no faking what you feel_

_When you're riding home_

_Music's in my soul_

_I can hear it_

_Everyday and every night_

_It's the one thing on my mind_

_Music's got control_

_And I'm never letting go_

_No, no_

_I just wanna play my music_

_Music_

_Got my six string on my back_

_Don't need anything but that_

_Everything I want is here with me_

_So forget that fancy car_

_I don't need to go that far_

_What's driving me_

_Is following my dreams_

_Yeah_

_Hands clapping_

_Earth shaking_

_Heart breaking_

_There's no faking what you feel_

_When you're on a role_

_Music's in my soul_

_I can hear it_

_Everyday and every night_

_It's the one thing on my mind_

_Music's got control_

_And I'm never letting go_

_No, no_

_I just wanna play my music_

_I just wanna play my music_

_I can't imagine what it'd be like_

_Without the sounds of all my heroes_

_Singin' all my favorite songs_

_So I can sing along_

_Music's in my soul_

_I can hear it_

_Everyday and every night_

_It's the one thing on my mind_

_Music's got control_

_And I'm never letting go_

_No, no_

_I just wanna play my music_

_Music's in my soul_

_I can hear it_

_Everyday and every night_

_It's the one thing on my mind_

_Music's got control_

_And I'm never letting go_

_No, no_

_I just wanna play my music_

_All night long_

I most definitely did remember that song. I'd seen Shane write it at the Camp. I'd seen Tess Tyler kiss him. I'd felt heart-broken for the first time in a long time. I ran off stage crying.

I did remember this camp. I did remember everything that went on here. I'd remember how I'd absolutely begged my mom to get me into this camp, and that I was lucky enough to get into this camp at a _discounted _rate. I'd remember how Shane was stuck-up and snobbish and how I'd been the girl to change him. Where was that girl? She was gone. I wanted her back. She was the reason why I was who I was. She was the reason that I'd had that summer. That was her summer and I'd turned it into dust. I didn't want to be a monster anymore. I didn't want to be the snobby diva of this place like Shane had been, but it's this person now, that has filled the place of the missing Mitchie. She was no where to be found.

Deep inside, the memories pulled at me as if they were just yesterday. I ran into the cabin bathroom and curled up into a ball. I needed that Mitchie back.

_"Remember what's in here."_


	5. Undiscovered Mask

"Mitchie?" someone called. It was Shane. "Mitchie!"

"Mitchie's gone!" I yelled back. He followed my cry into the bathroom.

"What do you mean 'Mitchie's gone'? She's right here."

"No! This person that I've become is a monster. Not Mitchie! The real Mitchie is gone! It's all been an undiscovered mask. I couldn't help it because the real Mitchie is gone and has been replaced by this monster in me. I can't help it! Mitchie's gone!" I screamed, crying into his chest.

"Now you see what you've been like."

"Have I been _that_ bad?" I wondered.

"Worse."

"Shane, what am I going to do?" I asked.

"What the real Mitchie would do—be herself."

"But how do I do that?" I asked.

I don't know."

After minutes of crying, Shane and I headed off to the classes we were going to teach. Shane taught every class that I had to teach, guessing that he was my chaperone.

First we started with Hip Hop Class 2. I remembered I took this class and literally freaked out when I found out Shane was teaching this class.

Alright, let's get started!" Shane yelled, excitedly. "Mitchie, why don't you lead?" he suggested.

Alright, I'm going to need everyone to follow my lead." I did a few moves from my tour. Shane joined me after seeing the first demonstration.

Soon the class followed my dance move. My every move. Once I stopped to walk around—Shane was still in front of the class—I noticed how precisely accurate these guys were. However, when I looked at each of them individually, I saw my millions of fans dancing the same moves at every concert. All of the faces that loved my performance—loved me.

How was I to be myself? A couple years ago, going to Camp Rock was a dream—being at the best music camp ever. Meeting Shane, that was a dream. Kissing Shane, that was a wonderful dream. But I was the same Mitchie even then. But what had changed me? Fame? Fortune? Whatever it was, Camp Rock changed me into this monster. Maybe it wasn't visible at the time but it gradually increased over the years. And now I was a repulsive human being. Like Beauty and the Beast. Was Shane supposed to be Belle...and I the Beast?

"Good job, everyone!" I yelled as the dance moves diminished to a halt. I looked back at Shane. He winked in return.

"Ready for your next class, Ms. Torres?" Shane asked politely. _Ms. Torres_, that's the monster's name, not mine. But I couldn't help but smile. The monster inside of me seemed to enjoy that.

"No, actually I'm not, Shane. I'd rather be dead than be here." He took in my words and stared at me in shock. I looked back at him, wondering what I had done wrong. Then I took in the words I had said and replayed them in my head. _I'd rather be dead than be here._ "Sorry," I apologized. "The monster comes out naturally. But I would have to say that the fault is partially on your behalf."

"You're blaming me for the monster inside Mitchie?" he wondered.

"You called me, _Ms. Torres._ Only the monster can respond to that. Sorry."

"Oh," he replied. "So are you ready for your next class, Mitchie?"

"Yea." I grinned at him.

"See? There's the real Mitchie. The one who goes 'Yea,' and then smiles back at me. God, I love that Mitchie." I smiled even wider.

"So, what's the next class?" I asked.

"Melody Class 4."

"Doesn't Brown teach that class?" I asked.

"He did." Shane's voice went all mysterious and cold.

"Am I missing something?" I wondered. Shane stayed silent. "Oh My Gosh! He died?!" I freaked, even though that was impossible because I just saw him about three hours ago.

"Not yet," Shane responded.

"What do you mean?"

"I'm not supposed to say this to any of the campers, but Brown's been ill. Something's wrong with his pelvis—or was it his kidneys?" Shane questioned himself. "Like permanently wrong," he said, turning back to me. "So I run the camp now. Well, so do Jason and Nate but they don't have much experience with running camps. They're working on it though."

"That's so sad."

"Mitchie?"

"Hm?"

"You're feeling empathetic for me."

"Yeah, my emotions control themselves." There was a pause of silence, me taking the time to hold in my mind for the sake of Brown. That was terrible for Shane to go through something like this. I mean, it was Brown who'd created the camp of his dreams. The Camp Rock. He was a living legend in Shane's eyes, and the legend was about to fade away from a speck of dust into thin air—invisible. I thought about the first time I'd met Brown...

_"Okay, so who wants to sing first?" Everyone's hand went up and high except for mine. "Eenie, meenie, minie, you." His finger pointed to me._

_"Me?" I questioned nervously._

_"Can't argue with the finger." Brown replied._

_"Um, okay." I began singing._

_Who will I be?_

_It's up to me_

_All the never endin—_

_He interrupted me, "Okay, I know you're singing a solo but it's so low, I can't hear you," he joked. I didn't really find his joke funny because he was implying how I was shy and completely, and utterly, emotionally stunned by the fact that if I'd embarrassed myself in front of this class, that I'd ruin my entire summer over humiliation. Sooner or later I had to get over my fears, right?_

_Who will I be?_

_It's up to me_

_All the never ending possibilities_

_That I can see_

_There's nothing that I can't do_

_Who will I be?_

_Yes, I believe_

_I get to make the future what I want to_

_If I can think of anyone and know the choice is up to me_

_Who will I be?_

_I finished. "Is that an original?" Brown asked me, swinging his arm over my shoulder so that our backs faced the rest of the class._

_"Well, yeah, it's mine but," I stuttered, trying to find words in response to his words._

_"No, it's good." He shook my hand and I'd officially made friends with him...for the time being._

"Mitchie?" Shane asked, breaking my memory. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine."

"Reminiscing about Brown?" he guessed.

"Yeah. It's weird."

"Why is that?"

"Because I wasn't famous then and the monster was no where in sight."

"Mitchie, you're not a monster. You're just—,"

"Repulsive? Bitchy? Cruel?"

"I was going to say different." I shrugged my shoulders. Of course he would be polite enough.

"Here we are. Melody Class 4," Shane announced. I could hear banging and shouting and singing from the other side of the cabin doors. Shane opened the door, "If the class is a'rockin' I'm a'glad I came knockin'." It was the same joke that Brown had used on the first day of my Melody Class 4. "Alright, now everyone knows Mitchie, so I'm going to let her pick the first to sing."

Everyone's hands shot up immediately. I decided to use my finger. Bringing the mémoires of Brown back to the dusty, cabin room. "Eenie, meenie, minie, you." I pointed to a dark-haired girl who was hiding in her hair. She reminded me of me. All of a sudden the something pulled from inside of me again, having a stronger force.

"Me?"

"Can't argue with the finger," I quoted Brown.

"Okay." She got up from the desk in the back row and headed up towards the front—towards me. I'd noticed that Shane had stepped in the back, in the shadows of a corner. I could barely see him smile, but I did hear a little chuckle from that area. He knew that I was imitating Brown and how the dark-haired girl reminded him too much of someone.

"What's your name?" I asked her kindly.

"Sydney Stone, ma'am."

"It's nice to meet you Sydney."

Tess whispered something into her neighbor's ear. She looked a little irritated. Maybe it was because I didn't pick her as an old acquaintance.

Well?" I demanded, waiting impatiently for Sydney to start singing.

_Gotta find your inner strength_

_If you can't then just throw life away_

_Gotta learn to rely on you_

_Beauty, strength, and wisdom, too_

_You're beautiful inside and out_

_Lead a great life without a doubt_

_Don't need a man to make things fair_

_It's more than likely he won't be there_

_Listen, girl, I know it's true_

_In the end all you've got is you_

As soon as Sydney was done, the class grew into a sea of applause. Everyone except for Tess. Tess just folded her arms across her chest and frowned, just like she had when I first sang for Brown and the Melody Class 4 that I had a few years ago.

Who's next?" I asked. The millions of hands shot up again. "Tess?"

"I can top that, Ms. Torres." The monster—or, according to Shane, the different Mitchie—grinned with excitement. At that point I couldn't help but think brutal and cruel things. It took my every will to fight my tongue from every even whispering those words to someone like Tess. If I'd spoken those words, I would be the Queen Bee of this place and Tess wouldn't as long as I was here. There was no way I was going to let my popularity out shine hers. She was the Queen Bee of this place—even if I could take her down—and I wouldn't want to become a bitch. Especially in front of a class full of innocent people like Sydney. I wouldn't let the undiscovered mask be permanent like Tess's had. I would reveal the inner Mitchie, the one that needed to breathe.


	6. Breathe

Tess sang but in my opinion, Sydney was a much better singer.

So I'm a shoe-in, right?" Tess asked, appearing behind my back in a nano-second after class ended.

"I won't factor in any cheaters or bribers so I can't decide that you'd win based on our relationship," I explained.

"But I am the best you've heard so far, right?"

"I'm actually not judging, Shane is."

"I knew that. But he shoed you in." The memory of how she'd used Shane to try to go against the grain—me. I shuddered. That kiss was never a good memory, though I'd pushed it far back in my mind so that I'd never have to think of it again; now it had surfaced to the very front of my mind.

I grimaced at her, "You wouldn't."

"I might."

"He's still mine." Shane and I were still dating—a long distance relationship—but it was…only weak?

"I still might."

"And you're still a bitch."

"Ouch, at least I'm still the Queen of this school."

"At least I'm still pretty," I challenged. She walked off with a huff. She was the big, bad wolf.

"That was a little harsh, don't you think?" Shane asked, coming up to be only centimeters away from me.

"She wanted to kiss you."

"So?"

"So. She can't kiss you."

"Why not?"

"Because you kissed me. I'm your girlfriend."

"Not exactly…" He trailed off of his train of thought.

"What do you mean _not exactly_?" I quoted in rage.

"Well, when Mitchie changed…so did my feelings for you," he said. Rage. Angst. Anger. Despair. All of those were only half of what I was feeling as he spoke those terrible words.

I raced away to the cabin. I heard a soft acoustic playing when I walked away on the dirty pathway.

_Another day has almost come and gone_

_I can't imagine what else could go wrong_

_Sometimes I like to hide away_

_Somewhere and lock the door_

_A single battle lost, but not the war_

'_Cause tomorrow's another day_

_And I'm thirsty anyway_

_So bring on the rain_

The chords of the guitar were precise. The voice was in clarity with every pitch. It had reminded me of the music that I once loved to produce; that I loved to perform. I knew that was the Mitchie I needed—the one I needed to hang on too.

I raced back to the cabin—for a good reason this time.

I didn't have a guitar with me so I reached for Nick's; it was lying on the bed, peacefully. I began to strum away on some chords, playing around with whatever music I can.

The lyrics didn't come to me so easily like they would've when I wasn't famous. Now, it was tough to write about things—emotions.

_Have you ever felt like your world's fallin' down?_

_Like you're the queen and your givin' up your royal crown_

_Have you ever felt your whole heart breakin' apart?_

_The light's not that far_

_I've been walkin' along this road for way too long_

_Lost the way to my heart, not a single song_

_Searchin' my way back home_

_Walkin' it all alone_

_Everybody's watchin' the monster inside of me_

_But I just wanna set free_

_I need to breathe_

_Have you ever felt the need to let go?_

_Like you need to be there, let someone know_

_Have you ever lost a friend like mine?_

_You won't lose this time_

_I've been walkin' along this road for way too long_

_Lost the way to my heart, not a single song_

_Searchin' my way back home_

_Walkin' it all alone_

_Everybody's watchin' the monster inside of me_

_But I just wanna set free_

_I need to breathe_

_The air's escaped my soul_

_My heart's fillin' in_

_But now I don't know where to go_

_I've been lookin' within_

_I've been walkin' along this road for way too long_

_Lost the way to my heart, not a single song_

_Searchin' my way back home_

_Walkin' it all alone_

_Everybody's watchin' the monster inside of me_

_But I just wanna set free_

_I need to breathe_

"Breathe," I whispered to myself. That's what the real Mitchie had to do. I needed her to breathe and be set free, get rid of this hideous monster that people seem to hate.

"Did you write that?" a mysterious, high soprano voice wondered.

"I did."

"It's pretty," Sydney complimented, appearing in the doorway.

"Thanks, Sydney."

"I'm guessing you heard my song."

"No, but I'd love to hear it."

'_Cause tomorrow's another day_

_And I'm thirsty anyway_

_So bring on the rain_

"Oh, you wrote that? Then, yeah, I did hear it. I thought it was beautiful."

"Thank you."

"No, Sydney, thank you."

"Why are you thanking me?" she questioned, obviously confused of why I was even here at Camp Rock in the first place.

"Because I needed to get back to my roots and your song helped me. It's kind of like the music I used to listen to—nay, used to write."

"It's hard keeping up an image," she stated, sitting next to me on the bed. I didn't mind, surprisingly. It was those exact words that I had said to Shane when we were in the canoe. "It must be hard for you. Being famous. There's a lot of pressure."

"Yeah." My mind wandered off to how much I'd been a bitch—even to my fans, to my manager, to my family. It wasn't right. I had no reason to act like that. I—er, the monster—was absorbing all the attention and she got the better of me. Maybe Camp Rock wasn't a punishment after all, but a way for me to see what I've been like, hoping to change.

"Well, you should head to your next class, Sydney," I suggested. She got up, slowly and silently, from the bed. She walked away from me and towards the cabin door, gracefully. I missed the old me; Sydney an exact replica.

"So, what were you doing?" Shane asked, just briskly passing Sydney on his way in.

"Why would you care?!" I snapped at him, still mad that he said those very words. Anger and rage filled my heart and mind again.

"Because you're still a good friend, Mitchie. I'm sorry for saying those things, but it's true. That's one of the reasons I decided to help you find your inner self again…because I missed the old Mitchie—my old girlfriend." I understood where he was coming from. Some people didn't want to be my friend because I was a monster. Other people faked being my friend just to get free stuff from me and fame. I could never tell who was a true friend to me. The old Mitchie had great friends; great like Sierra and Caitlyn.

Shane placed his arm around my shoulders. "So we cool?" I just nodded my head in sadness, but not for the reason he thought. "Is something wrong?" he wondered.

"May I use your phone, please?" I asked politely.

"Mitchie, you can't escape camp. They've got security guards all around this place. Keeping messed up fans away from us and the campers. And to keep you in this camp," he explained.

"I already knew that."

"So you're not going to call Mr. Davis or someone to let you free from camp?" he wondered.

"No. I'm going to call an old friend of mine."


	7. Successful

"Hullo?" Sierra asked on the other line.

"Hey, Sierra. It's Mitchie," I greeted, only wondering what her response would be.

"Mitchie Torres?"

"Yeah."

"Hey!" she replied happily. "How've you been, girl?"

"Good. You?"

"School's not so fun."

"You're just starting to realize that?"

"What about you? How's fame?"

"It's not so fun either. I'm always busy and don't really have time to myself. I'm always pressured to do well. I guess you could say it's another version of school."

"I miss you." She missed me? I guess I haven't been much of a friend. I mean, I haven't called her in about two years so I bet she's found other friends. Then again, she was never really good at making friends.

"Ditto." I really did miss her. With as much that's been going on in my life; it's nice talking to her for once. I can just rant on about my problems and she always knew how to fix them.

"So what brought this call on?" she asked.

"I don't really have anyone to lean on anymore. And I owe you."

"You owe me _a lot_!" she emphasized with a laugh.

"I know."

There was a silence between us. A deep silence.

"So how's your summer been?" I asked, trying to continue the conversation.

"Good, I guess. There's not much for me to do. I mean, I'm a junior in all AP classes so I'm studying my brains out for summer school," she explained.

"Any boyfriends?" I wondered. Of course, we were going to talk about boys. What else would best girl friends talk about? Unless your best guy friend was gay, then you could talk boys with him, I guess.

"Steven Fickle."

"Oh my god, no way?! Steven Fickle is, like, the hottest guy at school. How did you dig him?" I questioned, just pleading for details.

"Well, my image has changed. I've straightened my hair. I got contacts. I totally redid my wardrobe, and so he noticed me and asked me out."

"I bet Melissa wasn't happy."

"Who? Melissa Krone? Oh, she transferred to an all-girls school. Isn't that sweet?"

"How? Why?"

"Well, she got in a cat fight with Jamie Thompson over Steven and her dad got so mad that he made her go to an all-girls school," she explained.

"Awesome," I commented. "You know, it's good to get back to my roots. I mean, Shane, Nate, and Jason Grey all get on my last nerve but I'm starting to like it again," I said, changing the subject.

"You know Shane Grey?" she freaked.

"Yeah, I used to date him. Well, that was before I became a diva. He said he doesn't really date me anymore because I changed."

"So if you changed back to the old Mitchie then he'd date you again?" she pressed.

"Most definitely. But it's going to be hard getting the old Mitchie back."

"I don't think it will. The old Mitchie will find her way to shine again. You know, I used to have a best friend who'd always wanted to go to Camp Rock. One time she continued to ask her parents, not giving up and finally her mom was able to work their as cook and she went there for a discount. I haven't talked to her in a while." She sounded a little disappointed, "She told me at the end of the summer that it was the best summer she'd ever had and I think that's because she worked hard to get there. And she actually won Final Jamz, you know? She showed me that if you work towards what you want, you'll be successful. I bet if you do what she did and work towards being the old Mitchie, you'd find her once again," Sierra advised.

At that point I knew she was right. If I worked hard to bring the old Mitchie back, that she'd shine and breathe once more, being rid of this monster I've become forever. I was the best friend painted in that story—er, actually that was the old Mitchie.

"Thanks, Sierra."

"Um, Mitchie? Sorry to leave you but I've got summer school to get to," she said.

"Have fun!" I replied with a hint of sarcasm.

"Call me when you can, Mitch."

"Will do, Sierra."

The line turned dead from her end of the line before I could press the end button on Shane's phone. I handed him back his phone since he was sitting right next to me. He vowed to listen in on my conversation that was I wasn't running away from Camp Rock. To be honest, I didn't want to run away now. I wouldn't be a coward and give up the success that needed work.

"So who was that?" he wondered.

"Sierra," I answered. "I need to be alone." I took the same guitar I was using earlier and stalked out of the cabin, leaving a clueless Shane behind me.

As I walked out, I ran into Tess Tyler.

"Watch it, low life," she said coldly. "Shane is mine." The daggers in her eyes shot me through the heart, as if I'd been hit by a million and three guns on an endless term.

"I wonder how she'll get rid of her monster." I mentioned to myself.

I carried on down to the pier, where Shane had played his first song for me. It was the first time we actually bonded; friend to friend—not counting the time I was in the kitchen with him. He was more snobby then so we didn't really bond at that time.

I sat down, dipping my feet in the lake. I pulled the guitar out of it's case and began strumming the song that was familiar to me. It was Sierra's—and mine—favorite song.

_Do you know what's worth fighting for,_

_When it's not worth dying for?_

_Does it take your breath away_

_And you feel yourself suffocating?_

_Does the pain weigh out the pride?_

_And you look for a place to hide?_

_Did someone break your heart inside?_

_You're in ruins._

_One, 21 guns_

_Lay down your arms_

_Give up the fight_

_One, 21 guns_

_Throw up your arms into the sky,_

_You and I_

_When you're at the end of the road_

_And you lost all sense of control_

_And your thoughts have taken their toll_

_When your mind breaks the spirit of your soul_

_Your faith walks on broken glass_

_And the hangover doesn't pass_

_Nothing's ever built to last_

_You're in ruins._

_One, 21 guns_

_Lay down your arms_

_Give up the fight_

_One, 21 guns_

_Throw up your arms into the sky,_

_You and I_

_Did you try to live on your own_

_When you burned down the house and home?_

_Did you stand too close to the fire?_

_Like a liar looking for forgiveness from a stone_

_When it's time to live and let die_

_And you can't get another try_

_Something inside this heart has died_

_You're in ruins._

_One, 21 guns_

_Lay down your arms_

_Give up the fight_

_One, 21 guns_

_Throw up your arms into the sky,_

_You and I_

I kept strumming the chords, humming the song, singing it in my head. But then a new line hit me. It was her voice singing along to the lyrics, beneath them meaning the advice she gave to me over the phone. I began crying, knowing that through every word and every lyric she was right.

To find the old Mitchie, I'd have to work to be successful. But how would I find the old Mitchie?


	8. Sound of the Song

The song kept running through my head, over and over again. The view of the lake was beautiful. Over it, an eagle flew. Such a graceful bird. The wings spread out as she circled the lake, searching for food. Out of no where, diving straight towards the water at a fast speed, the wind blowing her towards the lake's surface. Her bill splashed with water as she hit the top of the lake, dipping in only a little bit. Dangling out of her mouth, a salmon, silently crying for it's life back as it fidgeted in the air and the hole of the eagle's bill. She spread her wings once more, preparing for a petite landing in a nearby tree. The leaves of the very same branch shook lightly as she fed the little ones in the nest.

"Eagle's are very beautiful," someone said from behind me. I didn't need to look up to know who it was. He sat down next to me as I stopped strumming against the guitar.

"You will find yourself, Mitchie. I don't have a single doubt of that," he commented.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Of course."

"Shane said that you were majorly ill. I've been wondering the answer ever since he told me. Are you going to die?"

He pondered the answer before speaking to me again. "Shane was right, that I'm greatly ill. There's an infection in my lungs that is incurable."

"So you are going to die?" It was a question that I'd been hoping wasn't true.

"Before the end of the summer," he answered, bowing his head. He splashed the water with his legs.

"Wow that must be terrible."

"Yeah, it's going to be worse on Shane."

"I can only imagine. Shane's taking over the camp. This year's going to be hard for him. He'll be running the camp and there'll be so many memories for him."

"You know, he misses you—well, the real you."

I looked at him wide-eyed.

"He can't stop talking on how you sang, the songs that you wrote, and the way you smiled at him. He truly loves you, Mitchie. That's why he offered to help you find your inner self, because he loves that part of you."

I was silenced after that. Shane wasn't having his best summer this year. Actually, it was probably going to be his worst. His uncle was about to die and the girl he loved the most walked out on him. The man who made his dreams possible was about to pass away and the girl he'd given part of his dreams to was gone. His heart was slowly ripping and falling to pieces with no one to help him, no one to pick up the broken pieces.

Brown left after talking with me. He left in silence while I pondered how I would help Shane while trying to help myself. I began to softly sing the same song. A song that could help Shane—or at least help me help him—and how it could tell that everything was going to be alright. And that this wasn't the end of the world. How everything would somehow get better in the end.

_Do you know what's worth fighting for,_

_When it's not worth dying for?_

_Does it take your breath away_

_And you feel yourself suffocating?_

_Does the pain weigh out the pride?_

_And you look for a place to hide?_

_Did someone break your heart inside?_

_You're in ruins._

_One, 21 guns_

_Lay down your arms_

_Give up the fight_

_One, 21 guns_

_Throw up your arms into the sky,_

_You and I_

_When you're at the end of the road_

_And you lost all sense of control_

_And your thoughts have taken their toll_

_When your mind breaks the spirit of your soul_

_Your faith walks on broken glass_

_And the hangover doesn't pass_

_Nothing's ever built to last_

_You're in ruins._

_One, 21 guns_

_Lay down your arms_

_Give up the fight_

_One, 21 guns_

_Throw up your arms into the sky,_

_You and I_

_Did you try to live on your own_

_When you burned down the house and home?_

_Did you stand too close to the fire?_

_Like a liar looking for forgiveness from a stone_

_When it's time to live and let die_

_And you can't get another try_

_Something inside this heart has died_

_You're in ruins._

_One, 21 guns_

_Lay down your arms_

_Give up the fight_

_One, 21 guns_

_Throw up your arms into the sky,_

_You and I_

"That was beautiful," Shane sighed, coming up from behind me.

"It's not mine."

"I know."

"I truly am sorry." I couldn't even begin to explain to him how sorry I was.

"What for?"

"For you losing Brown. For you losing the girl that you wanted. For having to remember all the memories and take them in, strong," I explained.

He nodded his head.

"It's not so much the girl or the uncle. Everyone has to die sometime, and that includes the mourning from others. And I believe the girl will come back and find herself soon. She's already beginning to help me understand that that's life and that's the way it is. There's nothing I can do about it."

"But that's a bad summer right there. I mean, you have to live with the memories and then deal with me, a snobby diva."

"S'not so bad. I don't mind it. I just don't want to see Brown leave. I mean, I love this camp. It's where my dream began—yours, too. But it's the memories that make me remember why I came here in the first place," he explained. "And I know that that girl will come back to me some day. She might not love me the way she used to, but at least she'll be herself once more. That'll make me happy."

"I wish there was a way I could help your suffering." I really wished that I could help him. He was in pain—I was half of the cause of it—and there was barely a chance of it getting any better—at least not for a while.

Suddenly, our kiss came back into play—well, at least in my mind it did. I remembered how sweet it was, and that even after Tess had kissed him, we'd found a way to be together. He'd found a way to sing with me at Final Jamz, knowing I was furious with him for kissing Tess. Now it was my turn. I had to find a way to bring us back together, through my diva-ness and his long suffering.

"Do you remember the song that I wrote here? I played it for you, remember?"

He took the guitar from me and began strumming away. The chords were familiar. So was the warm, camp air and the view of the lake.

_Every time I think I'm closer to the heart_

_Of what it means to know just who I am_

_I think I've finally found a better place to start_

_But no one ever seems to understand_

_I need to try to get to where you are_

_Could it be you're not that far?_

Automatically, I started singing along. I didn't really remember the words. It was as if they just came from my heart, from that something inside of me. I needed to let it out.

_You're the voice I hear inside my head_

_The reason that I'm singing_

_I need to find you_

_I gotta find you_

_You're the missing piece I need_

_The song inside of me_

_I need to find you_

_I gotta find you_

Soon, the lyrics traveled to be their own. It was as if the whole world had stopped to listen to the melody and the sound of the song, and there were no worries, no problems, and no pain.

_This is real, this is me_

_I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be now_

_Gonna let the light shine on me_

_Now I've found who I am_

_There's no way to hold it in_

_No more hiding who I wanna be_

_This is me_

Shane began singing his own part as the lyrics, the melody, and the harmony squished into one, complete song.

_You're the voice I hear inside my head_

_The reason that I'm singing_

_I need to find you_

_I gotta find you_

_You're the missing piece I need_

_The song inside of me_

_I need to find you_

_I gotta find you_

_Now I've found who I am_

_There's no way to hold it in_

_No more hiding who I wanna be_

_This is me_

The sound of the song halted, and so did the beauty and magic of it. The world came back into view and there was no one clapping, just silence. I took a minute to take in the silence after the song. It was something I definitely wasn't used to. It felt good.

I could hear the sound of the blue waters moving calmly as the fish swam freely beneath the surface. I could hear the waves crash lightly as if the roar of a crowd, cheering us on just like they had in Final Jamz. It was continuous and never-ending as the roar overcame the silence, but only for a brief second as the small waves slammed against our legs in the lake. It felt cool and great. The waves pulled away, bringing with them a bit of the monster in me as I breathed in the new Mitchie that was her old self once more.

I could hear the wind softly blow as it passed over my face, bringing new scents to my nose and mouth. I could hear the leaves in the trees flow with the breeze along with the falling of the different shades of green as if they were strips of confetti falling from the lights on to the stage beneath my feet. The memory was only flickered as the wind brushed against the left side of my face, bringing new things to my mind. The wind left, wiping away the memories of the monster in me. Newer, older memories were brought into my head as they filled the whole that the old Mitchie was, and the new Mitchie survived on.

I could hear the cry of the eagle, seeing it fly into the memories of Mitchie in the wind. Seeing it attack the old monster in the waves. The eagle's call rang in my ears over and over again, as if to be a shimmer of bells. The beauty of the cry remained in everything—the wind, the waves, the fish, the leaves. This was the magnificent bird, representing the old me, the old Mitchie. The ringing announced her return as the crowd roared and the confetti fell. The eagle sang as if to continue the sound of the song, the sound of the old Mitchie.


	9. Motionless

"So you do remember the song?" Shane asked, interrupting the beautiful silence.

I nodded, still taking in the cut-off noise.

"That was beautiful—you're singing," he complimented. "You haven't sang like that in a while."

"Brown was talking to me earlier and he mentioned something about you."

"And what was that?" he asked, continuing my statement.

"He said that you often talk about how I used to be…and how you missed me—and how I used to sing," I inquired.

Shane just looked down and began strumming the same beautiful chords again.

"I was just wondering why. Why would you talk about something that I used to be and am trying to be?"

The strumming stopped as he paused to look at me. His black, charcoal hair blew in the breeze as he skimmed my expression for any fear. It seemed as if he was nervous to answer me. He looked out beyond the lake, his face still showing the same expression. Millions of seconds passed by before he answered me.

"Because I care about you, Mitchie. Let's just leave it at that."

There was more of an answer—technically I already knew it but I wanted to hear him say it. I wouldn't push him any more.

"Shall we head back to camp?" he offered.

"Yes."

So we headed back to the camp grounds. The whole way was silent. Not the good kind of silent like there was after we sang, but the bad kind of silent like there were too many words said, yet not enough was explained.

"So where's our next class, boss?" I laughed, trying to lighten up his mood. I saw him smile.

"Actually, this is the one class you have without me," he stated.

"I have one class alone?" I wanted to jump for joy.

"No, you just don't have it with me." He shot me an smile with an evil glare.

"So who's the other counselor?"

"Counselors," he corrected.

"Hey guys!" Jason ran over to us with a slapped smile on his face. Nate slowly glided behind him, still smiling at me, though.

"I'm working with them?" my voice cracked, slightly frightened at how this class would go.

"Come on, Mitch. It won't be that bad," Nate tried to comfort me.

"Yeah, right, and Paris Hilton is a real blonde."

Shane stared at me in shock. "What happened to the Mitchie that just sang with me not even ten minutes ago?" he wondered.

"Dunno." I was telling the truth. I didn't know where she went. But I wanted her back soon.

Shane walked off with a smile, leaving me with the rest of Connect 3.

"Well, come on," Nate urged.

"Yeah! This'll be fun, Mitchie!" Jason yelled.

"Is he always like this?" I whispered to Nate, wondering if Jason's attitude was completely abnormal for him or not.

"Sadly." Nick took the first lead onto the path ahead of us. I followed suit while Jason skipped ahead of the both of us. There was silence for a few minutes. Man, was today a silent day.

"So what class are we headed to?" I asked.

"Chorus Class 3."

"Ah." I knew that class well. It's where the counselors would teach each camp rocker the pitches of a song, as well as chords from the piano and guitar. They'd also teach them the many scales in the musical world.

"Yeah! We're here!" Jason chuckled loudly.

"How is it that he's so…?"

"So what?" Nate questioned.

"Well, I was going to say obnoxious but that sounds cruel."

"So happy?" he continued.

"Yeah."

"We don't know. We think that Mom dropped him when he was a baby but Shane and I can never be sure. He's older than the both of us so we weren't around. And when we tried to ask Mom or Dad, they seem to just change the subject automatically."

He lead my into the classroom that was filled with camp rockers. It was weird not having Shane here with me.

During the class, I grabbed some spare time with Nate while Jason bounced around the room, playing his guitar.

"So where's Shane in all of this?" I wondered. It'd been bothering me the entire class and I needed an answer.

"During this class he goes to spend time with Uncle Brown."

"Uncle Brown? Oh, wait, never mind." Right, not my uncle, but theirs.

"Did Shane tell you how Uncle Brown's been ill?" he asked in a hushed tone, not wanting the other campers to hear.

"Yeah, he mentioned that."

"He's been trying to spend as much time with him as possible. We all have."

I decided to say nothing more on the situation and let Nate reminisce. This was going to be a hard summer for all of them.

---

It'd had been a few weeks since I started at Camp Rock and it got a lot easier. Shane and I were able to connect on so many levels, I got used to Jason's overexcitement, and I warmed up a little to Nate. Tess was still the bitchy Queen Bee of this place and she still planned on kissing Shane for Final Jamz. Sydney and Caitlyn became great friends—kind of like how Caitlyn and I were when we first me. Tess doesn't like them two working together so I guess that's a good thing. The summer was getting hotter and my days at Camp Rock were getting slightly easier.

---

I woke up, stretched out on the sheets, completely covered by millions of sweat drops. I tossed and turned in the sheets but there was no way that I would get back to sleep. I was too hot and sticky to fall back to sleep and dream peacefully. Stupid hot weather.

Finally, defeated by the increasing temperature, I got up from the sticky, sweaty sheets and flipped on the small light beside my bed. I could see Nate spread about his bed in only his underwear. I shuddered, not wanting to see that. Jason was in the bed next to him. He was in his Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles boxers, cuddling a stuffed replica of Barney while snoring slightly.

I glared at Shane's bed, which was next to mine. The sheets were tangled and twisted but there was no movement, like Nate; however, Shane seemed to be under the covers. _Under the covers? In this heat? There's no way. _I thought to myself. There was no way that he would be covered by those sheets in this heat. If I couldn't survive it, then he couldn't either. Especially because he always sweated like a pig because of his dark hair. Nate and Jason didn't sweat as bad as he did. Brown told me.

I reached slowly towards the mangled sheets, not wanting to wake anyone else up. I patted the sheets, definitely not wanting to wake up Shane if he was under the covers—God, knows why he would be tonight—and have him yell at me, irritated that I woke him. Of course, he did wake me up yesterday morning to come here and I was a little irritated with him and myself.

As my fingers touched the sheets, the felt nothing but the mattress beneath them. Not feeling anything, I reacted by patting the rest of the sheets down. Jason's snort startled me and I jumped back. I would've screamed if my hand hadn't clamped over my own mouth. Nate twisted to his side smoothly as my breathing became normal once again.

I silently and carefully moved to my suitcase to grab my flashlight, flip flops, and a jacket—it may have been hot but I didn't want to be randomly stabbed or bit by mosquitoes.

"Mitchie?" Jason asked. "Where are you going?"

I stared at him, not knowing if he was really awake or still unconscious.

"Oh, you're going to Cupcake Land. Wait for me!" Jason fell back asleep as I released the inhaled air in my lungs.

I walked quietly over to the cabin door. I snuck out before Nate could wake up or before Jason could ask if I was going to Pizza Place—or someplace like that—again. Flipping on my flashlight, I searched the camp grounds for Shane. My flip flops squashed around on the wet, yet hot pathway. The air was full of moist and fog, which made it harder to see with the flashlight. All the cabins seemed shut down—except for the outside light—and everyone else was asleep.

I searched everywhere and decided that I should let Nate and Jason know that Shane snuck out. Maybe they knew where he was. Maybe they could help me look for him.

It wasn't until I stepped foot backwards towards the cabin that I noticed there was a dark shadow over the lake. There was a man in a canoe with a dim light. He was just sitting there, with his head laid backwards over the side of the canoe. But that wasn't what had caught my attention.

There was another man, one closer to me, who was preparing to set sail on another canoe just down by the dock. My curiosity overcame me and I stalked down to the docks to see who it was. As I got closer, the face of the man became more and more familiar.

"Shane?" I asked, not wanting to disturb his work.

"Why are you up?" he snapped at me.

"I was too hot and I noticed you were gone so I came looking for you."

"Why?" he snarled.

"Because I care about you, Shane. Let's just leave it at that," I mimicked him, snapping back. "What are you doing?" I wondered.

"It's none of your business," he yelled. He sat down in the canoe, his back towards me, and began paddling out into the middle of the lake. I ran up the dock and jumped the distance between the edge of the dock and the edge of Shane's canoe. "What are you doing?! Get back to bed!" he raged at me.

"It is too, my business." He looked as if he wanted to strangle me.

"No it's not," he snarled again.

"Yes it is. My boyfriend got up from bed and came out here. And I know that he's in pain because the girl he wants—nay, loves—is trying to find herself while struggling and his uncle's about to die and I don't know about you but I would start seeming to care." He stopped the oars and looked at me.

"How'd you know?" he asked me.

"You told me your uncle was going to die."

"No…how did you know that I loved you?"

"Your Uncle Brown told me yesterday."

"Of course he did," he stated.

"Why are you so angry?" I questioned, tears starting to swell in my eyes.

"Because I need to do this alone. And then you came out tonight."

"Shane…you can't do this alone. Just like how I can't become myself again alone." He began paddling again, still angry, I could tell.

I grabbed to two extra oars and began paddling myself. We sat across from each other, silent for most of the ride.

"You never told me what you're doing," I said.

"That's Uncle Brown out there." He nodded his head towards the man laying over the side of the canoe, motionless.

"Are you worried?" I wondered.

"Yes."

I didn't ask anymore questions after that; I had a million of them.

---

Once we got there, Shane and I jumped the canoe to where Uncle Brown was. We had to swim across the short distance. Man, was the water cold, but Shane nor I cared that much. Shane was able to pull himself up on the canoe. He gave me his hand so that I could be pulled up out of the freezing water.

"We should've brought towels," I stated. He ignored me.

"Uncle Brown?" he asked, shaking Brown's body softly. I could hear his voice crack when he asked a second time. "Uncle Brown?!"

I heard a bit of coughing but I didn't realize it until I saw red water drip from the side of the canoe and into the dark lake. Once the body was rolled over, Brown's mouth was completely covered with blood. It had already stained his shirt.

"Call the ambulance!" Shane shrieked at me.

"I would but someone _forgot _my phone!" I screamed back.

"Get Nate and Jason!" he ordered.

I got back into our canoe that had luckily drifted over to us so I didn't have to swim. I paddled back to shore quickly and ran back into the cabin to wake up Nate and Jason.

I flickered on the lights, blinding them.

"Turn off the sun!" Nate complained.

"Sorry, boys, but your Uncle Brown is spitting up a fountain of endless blood into the lake!" I screamed in one breath. I reached for Jason's phone on the table next to me and began calling the doctors.

"DAMNIT! THE LINE'S BUSY!" How does 911 become busy?

"Come on!" They both put on shirts and ran outside, following me to the docks where we paddled back to Uncle Brown's canoe. I kept trying to call 911 while Jason and Nate rowed but the damn line was still unavailable.

When we got to Uncle Brown and Shane, there was no spilling of blood—only sobbing. I looked over at Brown where his nose and mouth ran of dry blood and his eyes were rolled into the back of his head. His entire body was limp and motionless—a useless corpse. All of his skin was as white as a ghost, his hair was wacky. He was gone. The legend had died.


	10. Central Park

I let Shane cry into my shoulder while Nate and Jason cried into each other, hugging like crazy. There were millions of sobs from all around. I wasn't crying myself—no, I was too disgusted by Brown's body to do that—but I was going to be mope-y for a while. Sad moods didn't accompany me much. I patted Shane's back as he sobbed and stained my jacket.

Soon the sun peeked over the edge of the lake and the sobbing and crying came to an official stop.

"Are you done?" I asked Shane.

He nodded in response.

"Good, because it's best to be strong and move on. Besides, Brown wouldn't want to see you three sobbing over him. He'd want you to live your lives happy and remember the good, sweet times together—or here at this camp." Shane and Nate nodded while Jason broke out in another episode of tears.

"We should head back to the campsite," Nate suggested. Shane dropped the weights from Brown's canoe so that the canoe was still.

"His body should stay here for eternity…as a remembrance, a legend," Shane said. "He'd want to be out here on the lake."

"You have to bury him, you know?" I told him. "Otherwise his soul will be forever trapped here. Why don't you leave just the canoe here and then bury his body at the entrance of Camp Rock?" I suggested. "We can have a special ritual for him in remembrance. I can order a stone engraved with his name and we can plant flowers around it."

"He'd like that," Nate added. Jason stopped sobbing all of a sudden.

"I can make a handprint platter for him!"

"So, it's settled. I'll order the flowers and plant them, Jason will make the platter thingy…" I looked up at Nate and Shane, who had nothing to do.

"I can get Jeanie to announce the ceremony and get everyone to come," Nate inputted. "Shane, will you be okay burying him?" That was the only thing that was left.

"I'll be fine."

"Are you sure? I mean, I can sacrifice a brand new mani to do it…I can also survive the gagging," I sacrificed. I didn't want him to suffer anymore than he had to.

"No, I'll do it. You can do your manicure."

"I thought you weren't going to baby me," I pointed out.

He laughed a small chuckle, a nervous one. Everyone broke up, the boys still mourning.

---

Later that day I found Shane in the back by the dock where we sang before—yesterday. I decided not to interrupt his playing, though it wasn't the same tune as yesterday. It was a sadder, minor tune that played throughout the lake. I could hear the notes drifting away as they surrounded the canoe in the middle of the lake. We all decided to paint it after the ceremony and name it "The Legend" after Brown who was the legend here at Camp Rock.

_Sometimes I wonder if I'll ever see you again_

_Never know whether I can live or regret_

_What's happened what's happened_

_No one can change that_

_I'll just let it be_

_For eternity_

_I hear you calling out my name_

_Can't get you out of my brain_

_What's done here is the past_

_I won't forget that_

_I'll just let it be_

_For eternity_

_I just can't let you go_

_Now I'll never know_

_What life'll be with out you_

_I've seen the light_

_Falling tonight_

_What can I do_

_This song was meant to be heard_

_Leaving with no words_

_But we all die sometimes_

_While some live their life_

_I'll just let it be_

_For eternity_

He strummed the last of the E major chord with a sigh. I wanted to go up to him and hug him tight.

"It's best if you leave him alone," someone said from behind me.

"So you heard the news, huh?" I asked.

"It's all over the camp. Nate and all of the rest of the counselors prohibited anyone from going in the lake today. I can see why." Sydney pointed out beyond Shane towards The Legend.

"Yeah, today's going to be a rough day for all of us," I concluded.

"Not for Tess."

"What do you mean?"

"Tess has been ecstatic because she thinks she's dating the Camp Rock leader, Shane. I don't believe her. She's been spreading that rumor around all morning."

"You should get to class, Sydney," I suggested. I needed to talk to Tess.

---

I found Tess only a few minutes later. She was squawking to a few other camp rockers how she was dating Shane.

"Did you hear? Shane and I…" I could hear her whisper. She glanced over at me with an evil stare.

"Why?" I questioned in a harsh tone.

"Why what?" she asked innocently.

"Why are you rumoring about you and Shane?"

"Because it's not a rumor, it's true."

"You and I both know it's a rumor."

"So?"

"So why?"

"People won't perform at Final Jamz because they'll assume that I'm a complete shoe-in," she explained.

"Don't you think Shane feels bad enough. He doesn't have to deal with you, too."

"Yeah, I know," she answered calmly.

"So shut up about it, Tess. You're just a snobby diva. No one's going to like you or help you when you need them. Trust me, I've been there," I snapped.

"Right."

"You're becoming a monster."

"Just let it go, Mitchie," a new, darker voice announced.

"Shane! Baby! So sorry about your uncle. What a great man he was. Wanna grab some lunch together?" Tess asked in a high-pitched voice.

"Nah, Mitchie and I have plans, but thanks for the offer."

"We have plans?" I didn't realize my schedule had been completely altered.

"Yes, we do. Follow me," he ordered. I followed him back to our cabin, leaving Tess stunned. Some of the other camp rockers noticed out little squabble and began to talk. Probably about how Shane left Tess for me—even though he was never dating Tess in the first place.

We entered the cabin and there was a picnic basket. Shane just picked it up and walked back out the cabin. He lead me to a limo which he would be driving. He was nice enough to open the door for me without a word.

"Thank you," I mumbled.

He drove us to an airport where they held a private plane for us. I'd thought that everyone would be appalled at my outfit but hardly anyone was in the airport—except for the staff. No one even noticed that I was strutting behind Shane.

"Where are we going?" I asked on our flight.

"You'll see," he said with a smile.

"Can you answer one question of mine, though?"

"That depends, what's your question?"

"Why did you drag me away from Tess before I ripped her to shreds?" I wondered.

"Because I can't have my girlfriend get into a fight with a monster and destroy her. Not after all she's worked for this summer," he explained.

"Ah," was all I said, looking out the window at the terrains of who knows where.

"Now, will you answer my question?"

"That depends, what's your question?" I imitated in his very voice. I sucked at impersonating him, though.

He laughed before asking. "Why were you going to fight Tess?"

"Because she's becoming what I am."

"Correction—used to be."

"I haven't changed that much, have I?"

"Completely, Mitchie."

The flight attendant landed the plane and Shane escorted me to the park. I knew where we were now. We were at Central Park in New York City. It was one of my favorite places to be. He was taking me here for lunch? I was confused but I'd let the date itself explain that.

---

After our lunch Shane laid back on the soft grass that was next to the blanket of checkered red and white. I laid there next to him, though I fell back with a thud. Shane laughed and removed a strand of my hair that dangled in front of my face.

"Why all of this?" I asked.

"What I can't take my girlfriend out to lunch?" he asked back, innocently.

"I'm your girlfriend again?"

"I told you. The old Mitchie was my girlfriend. And when she turned into a monster, my love changed for her," he repeated. "Now that the old Mitchie's back, so is my love for her."

"But what about Tess?" I wondered, wanting to know what—if there was anything—going on between the two of them.

"Well, I have a theory," he said, almost altering the entire conversation.

"What's that?"

"Last time you were here you were influenced by Tess, right?"

I nodded.

"Well, my theory is that since she influenced you, you became the monster because you didn't want to be seen hurt like Tess is; however, this year I've influenced you because I've experienced what it's like to be that kind of person and now you're the real Mitchie again," he explained.

"So there's nothing going on between you two?"

"Absolutely not!" he rebuked.

"So who's prettier?" I challenged.

"Oh, Tess is," he answered.

"How can you say that?! I'm your girlfriend! Maybe you should date her!" I screamed, overreacting at his answer.

"But your beautiful."

"Really?"

He took my face in cupped it in his hands. His lips were only centimeters away from mine.

"The most beautiful girl in the world," he complimented.

Heatedly, I closed the air between our lips, holding on to the back of his neck. He grabbed my back and pulled me even closer to him. I tangled my fingers in his black, charcoal hair. It was smooth, like he'd just came out of a steamer in heaven.

He pulled away, both of us breathing heavily. He pushed me on the ground gently, laying on top of me. My shirt was going to be dirty but I didn't care. I grabbed the necklace he was wearing and pulled it closer to me until our lips met in the middle. His tongue scavenged the inside of my mouth while ripping off his V-neck shirt. My fingers traced the contours of his abs as his strong arms wrapped around me, pulling me closer to him.

He pulled away once more, putting one of his burning hands to my cheek. I tried to get a hold on my heart, but it went soaring. My brain was disfunctioning…like it was drunk. I looked up at him with wondrous eyes, just wanting to know why he pulled me away from heaven. He was staring back with those brown eyes of his, his necklace hanging in my face.

"You have no idea how long I've wanted to do that." He smiled at me and brought me back to heaven.


	11. The Legend

After making out with Shane in the middle of Central Park, we broke apart. He smiled at me a lot now. He was happy—just the way Brown would want him to be.

"We should probably head back before the ceremony starts," he suggested.

He lifted me off the soft ground with one arm, the basket in the other hand. On the way to the airport he kept close to me, but we still held hands. It was as if he couldn't be torn from me.

---

We got back just as every camp rocker was surrounding the entrance, right where we were burying Brown.

"I should get the corpse ready." Shane left my side in a matter of seconds.

The flowers were already set around and so was Jason's plaque of handprints for Brown. There was already a huge box dug up for Brown's body.

In less than five minutes, Shane came around with a wheel barrow that had the corpse of the Legend lingering in it. His skin was bleach white; his eyes still rolled to the back of his head. The blood was completely dry over his shirt and mouth.

Shane took his gloves and carried Brown carefully towards his grave. He set him down nicely in the hole where he was to be laid. I saw Shane shed a tear that landed on Brown's left hand, the one he played guitar with.

There became a sea of sobs, sneezes, ruffled tissues, and tears as Shane placed Brown's body in the hole. I couldn't help myself so I shed a small tear; a single raindrop compared to everyone else. I looked over at Shane; his eyes seemed as if they would be set off by a time bomb and explode into a fountain of tears in only a matter of seconds.

I ran over to him before the bomb could erupt in his eyes. He pulled me into his chest, tightly, as he cried his heart out in my hair. I let him squish me so hard that I couldn't breathe. He was suffering his worst and I needed to help him now like he'd helped me.

As soon as his fountain stopped flowing, he let me go. I decided that I should grab the mic and say a few words on Brown's behalf…and Shane's.

"Brown was a great man," I started, unsure of what to say. "He created this camp for people to follow their dreams as a rockstar. For the two years that I've been here I've noticed that this camp isn't about just having fun with music; it's about finding who you really are, even if you're hiding behind a mask. Brown taught us all that here at this camp and he's showed that being a musician isn't just a job or a hobby; it's a way to express yourself—just like crying!" I said, trying to lighten the mood. No one laughed; no one smiled. "Brown is _the _Camp Rock legend. He could always make someone laugh, make someone feel better about themselves and with that, out came a song. Brown is the most amazing camp counselor I've ever had. And in honor of him, we should respect this camp and remember everything that he's done for us—done for us as not only a counselor, but a friend as well. Rest in peace, Brown." I stepped off the stage and the sea of applause came with a continuous sound of tears.

"Would you like to say anything?" I asked Shane, handing him the mic.

He nodded, his face still red from the tears.

"Brown has always been a legend to every camp rocker—including me. When I went here a few years back; all I wanted to be was a rockstar. And as much as it pains me to say this, though it's the truth, Brown was the reason I wanted to become a rockstar. But fame got to my head and I had to come back to my roots. Then, I wanted to be the legend, not Brown. Even with my stuck-up attitude, Brown stuck to me, wanting the old Shane back. He never gave up on anything or anyone. He was a laughing man and was gentle and sensitive to everyone's feelings—including mine. Now I see myself in those exact shadows. He was a great leader for everyone and he helped people, as Mitchie had stated, like me and Mitchie and the rest of Connect 3, find their dreams and accomplish them. He was the best uncle a guy could ask for. He was supportive, funny, parental—though most of didn't want that—we still appreciated who he was. And I still do, even though he's left us. But he left us here, at Camp Rock, the place he loved the most, and that's all that matters. But recently I learned, from an anonymous giver…" His eyes flickered to mine at that point. "That it's the soul that leaves us forever, but the memory lives on. So let's remember Brown for who he was. Let's remember him as a leader, a guitarist, and a friend. Let's remember him as the legend of Camp Rock."

I broke into a great applause just as everyone else did. Shane was being strong and he was right. We had to remember him as what he was—a legend.

I hugged Shane when he stepped off the stage. I was proud of his speech, proud of him. He was being the strongest he could be and he was accepting the fact that he can't see Brown, but Brown can see him, and that we should remember him the way he left us and for everything he's done for us. For once, I saw a smile on Shane's face; a smile that I didn't cause.

He looked at me with those sparkling, brown eyes of his. Then fireworks went off inside of me as he attached his lips to mine. Then he let go without a warning.

"What are you doing?" I whispered.

"Making Tess tell the truth," he grunted. He started walking away to go get Tess but I yanked on his arm.

"Just let it go, Shane. I don't want my boyfriend fighting a monster, not after all he's suffered through this summer. And besides, you get influenced by her this year…then I'll be left in the dust with a broken heart and you'll be giving bad publicity again." He stared at me in shock, knowing that I was right.

Shane turned back and held me in his arms with a sigh.

"I know it's tempting but you shouldn't." I shook my head.

"I know."

"Good, baby." I leaned up and kissed him as a reward.

"Isn't it _good boy_?" he asked, wondrous amazement expressed over his face.

"Yes, but you're my baby and you're not a boy…_you're a man_." He was just over 18.

"Thanks, babe." He had a huge smirk on his face. I was glad my hubby was happy. Well, I can't really call him my hubby because we're not married—yet.

As everyone else was giving their speeches, I noticed Jason's hand platter.

_The Legend of Camp Rock:_

_Andrew J. Brown_

There was a guitar picture below the name. I assumed it represented how he loved music and how he was the founder of Camp Rock. So Jason wasn't that stupid—I owed him an apology.

As soon as everyone was done saying their speeches—Jeanie's was the longest—Shane placed the dirt back in the hole where Brown was laid. Over his head an eagle flew, taking her very last flight. I guess you could say that Brown was like an eagle. When there was an opportunity, he'd take it, like an eagle with the chance to fly. The eagle was a legend, and so was Brown.

_She takes one last flight through the air_

_Free as a bird, flying solo_

_A remembrance in the winds when they blow_

_Singing the sound of the individual song_

As Shane was finishing up the last of the dirt, the eagle spiraled towards the curling waves—which seemed to be enjoying the bird's flightless tumble. The heart of the eagle was only—or what seemed to be—audible to my ears. The heart beats slowed as the eagle came closer to the roaring waters. Soon, the heart beats stopped altogether.

_The deaths roar and cheer for her_

_She is forever taken_

_The song still continues to be sung_

_The memories continue to fly behind her _

The eagle cawed one last time and the sound of another song rang in my ears. It was a beautiful, yet sorrowful song. Not like the one I'd sang with Shane, but one that was bolder and more graceful. The song continued on long after the eagle fell to the depths. It was the song of a dying legend finally finding it's place. Shane had finished burying the Legend, himself.

_She sings the last note that will last forever_

_She's finally found her place in the world_

_Remembered as a dying legend of the air_

_Only just a flightless, beautiful bird_

It appeared to me, that it was time to paint the canoe in remembrance of Brown. When we reached the Legend's canoe I noticed something that had disturbed it ever since last night.

So the eagle hadn't fallen into the waters of the lake. There she lay, peacefully dead. She'd found her place; in the painted Legend, just like Brown was in his.

_Happy to be where she is_

_In the comfort of her own heaven_

_Living in the memory of those who can remember_

_Not as how she was living_

Instead of painting the boat, I tended to the eagle. Shane didn't bother asking why I didn't help paint. I cleaned her off and stroked her dead feathers. As a dead bird I perched her up on the front of the boat. I tied her there so that she wouldn't ever fall off, that she'd always be where she wanted to be; flightless in her own mind—a legend of the air.

_Gone like the wind but still in presence_

_The breeze blows and the sun comes up to dawn_

_The eagle has finally flown for her last time_

_While the memories still sing on_


	12. Flightless Bird

I was the last one to leave the boat, just admiring the still eagle on the peak of the Legend.

"Mitchie, you coming?" Shane called after me.

"Yeah," I murmured softly, still eyeing the beautiful, dead bird. I could hear Shane rowing back towards me but I didn't bother to protest.

"You okay?" he asked me.

"Yeah," I answered again.

"Mitchie, what's wrong?" His voice was concerned sternly.

"Nothing." My voice was louder now but I still glared at the bird mindlessly. I felt Shane jump the canoe when he rocked the Legend with his weight. I looked up at him for a brief moment.

"She's a beautiful bird."

I didn't answer.

"Mitchie, please tell me what's going on. My mind is going insane over here."

I sighed. Honestly, I didn't even know what was going on. It seemed as if I was grieving for the bird's death—or if I was just dumbfounded while observing it.

The waters rocked the canoe and I shivered, frightened from the monster in the lake.

"I-I-." I stuttered, now trying to find words to say. "I was scared."

"Of what?" Shane wondered, inching closer to me. I could feel the heat of his body radiate on me.

"I was scared for the bird. While you were…she plundered…they crashed…the song rang…she cried…it laughed…I-I-I." I broke down into tears, crying into his chest, trying to explain what I was scared of.

"It's okay. It's just a bird."

"It's not just a bird!" I shrieked at him. "She's a beautiful living creature that represents strength and grace! When you completely buried him, she died! Landed right here in this damn canoe! She flew for her last time during the ceremony and the damn monster in the lake swallowed her and took her away! She was a legend of the air and all you can say is that 'It's just a bird'?!?!?!" I yelled. "It's like saying Uncle Brown was just a person and that he didn't matter to you! The monster is back! That's why I'm scared! Because it's BACK!!!" I finally stopped ranting out about the eagle and the monster. I was scared that it would fight back and take her freedom away, take away the song. I just cried into his chest some more, completely out of breath but too sad and scared to breathe again.

"Mitchie, there is no monster in this lake," Shane said, trying to reassure me.

"Yes, there is," I managed to muffle in his chest. At that point, a small wave splashed me. It felt more than just a wave. Like, there was magic transferred between the water and me.

At that point I was in a battle with myself. The monster in me glowered with bright red eyes, waiting for a weakness of mine to completely take over. She smiled an evil grin that was almost perfect. Her hair was spiked, messed up; she was coming out of Hell. She was wearing tattered black clothes and black stilettos. Her nails were painted blood red and her fingers arched like talons on a falcon. Her body was curved and shaped just as if she was about to pounce on me. Her eye shadow and mascara was as dark as midnight while her skin contrasted it, pale white. She looked like a monster.

Then I saw myself. I had the beautiful brown eyes of my mother and the long dark hair of my father's. I could see my heart as gold. I smiled sweetly, innocent like. My hair was neat and nothing was wrong about my perfect body except my hands. The writhed in pain from all the working to help others. My lungs, out of breath from screaming so hard. My clothes covered in dirt. This was the nice, sweet Mitchie. And she encouraged the monster as if to say _bring it on_. But Mitchie was bright. Everything about this Mitchie shined. Her makeup glowered to show her perfect face. She was a replica of me.

But I couldn't let her win. If she won this battle, then everything I'd worked for this summer would be thrown down the drain and in her hand. Shane would be left broken-hearted, Tess would be dead, innocent people like Sydney would be hurt, and the real me would be tormented by this monster and completely thrown away…for good.

The monster pounced at my replica. The claws tried to dig through the skin but it was impenetrable. The hands tried to mangle but the body was quick. This would be an even fight. The darkness in my mind brightened the view of the battle as I struggled to compose a victory against the monster. However, she was strong and dark. There was only one way of winning…but I was losing that, too. She let out a hiss of evil that staked right through me; I was a ghost. This battle was good verses evil; Mitchie verses the Monster.

Then it'd hit me of what the Monster wanted to do. She wanted to destroy the legendary, brave, and beautiful Mitchie—just like she had the eagle. I had to bring power to that Mitchie. I sang as loud as possible, ringing and shaking the darkness surrounding me as the Monster toppled and tackled me, close to strangling for good.

_This is real, this is me_

_I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be now_

_Gonna let the light shine on me_

_Now I've found who I am_

_There's no way to hold it in_

_No more hiding who I wanna be_

_This is me_

The song rang in the Monster's pale ears but it didn't defeat her. The singing Mitchie grew somewhat stronger, but it wasn't strong enough.

_This is real, this is me_

_I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be now_

_Gonna let the light shine on me_

_Now I've found who I am_

_There's no way to hold it in_

_No more hiding who I wanna be_

_This is me_

The singing Mitchie became a little stronger, but it wasn't till a new voice entered that she grew the greatest strength.

_You're the voice I hear inside my head_

_The reason that I'm singing_

_I need to find you_

_I gotta find you_

_You're the missing piece I need_

_The song inside of me_

_I need to find you_

_I gotta find you_

The Monster ripped another hiss through her teeth, almost angry that she was losing while Mitchie was growing stronger yet. The mysterious voice sang louder, shouting in my ears.

_You're the voice I hear inside my head_

_The reason that I'm singing_

_I need to find you_

_I gotta find you_

_You're the missing piece I need_

_The song inside of me_

_I need to find you_

_I gotta find you_

Mitchie joined in, making her strength even stronger.

_This is real, this is me_

_I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be now_

_Gonna let the light shine on me_

_Now I've found who I am_

_There's no way to hold it in_

_No more hiding who I wanna be_

_This is me_

The Monster was drowned out as the real Mitchie stood on top of the scary body. The battle was finally over. The Monster would never come back and the real Mitchie would always reign in her own life.

_Gone like the wind forever now_

_The darkness has left and the one remains_

_All that was taken was given back_

_In the sight of the flightless bird_


	13. Epilogue

I slowly opened my eyes, staring at the bright noon sun. I was dripping wet but I didn't care about that. The sun beat warmth down on me as I shivered from a cold breeze that flew by. I still stared up at the sun in amazement. The Monster was gone—for good. How was that possible?

"Mitchie?" a dark, male voice wondered. "Are you okay?"

I wanted to answer him, but my breath was gone. A rush came into my head and I instantly choked up lake water that was clogging my lungs.

"Yes, I'm fine." Was I fine? How long did the battle last? Did anyone die in the process?

"You scared me, there, babe." His voice was concerning, yet calm and peaceful.

"What happened?" What a stupid question. Of course I would ask the oblivious.

"I pulled you back onto my canoe and it tipped over. You'd smacked your head on the side of the canoe when you went over and became unconscious. I was able to grab a hold of you and swim you back to shore." I hadn't noticed that I was soaking wet—or he—until a drop fell down from his slick, black hair and landed on my cheek. That explained the cold breeze from earlier.

"Is it really gone?" I asked, wide-eyed at him in wonder.

"Is what gone?"

"The monster?" I must be stupid to him. I sounded like a five-year-old, scared of the monster in the closet.

"Mitchie, there's no monster. What are you talking about?"

"I saw her. She was there, staring back at me with beady-red eyes; glowering with pale skin. She pounced on me but I sang aloud. Then another voice sang along and—I couldn't make out who it was singing—I grew stronger with every lyric. Then she disappeared altogether. There was nothing left of her. And then I ended up here, being blinded by the sun," I explained, wondering if my story was all just a dream.

"You heard me singing? I thought you were unconscious."

"D'pends, what w're you singin'?" My words started to slur as I grew tired, restless.

"Our song. The one from the dock."

"Yeah, I h'rd yah."

"Shane, she should get some sleep. She looks really tired," a new voice interrupted.

Soon, I was trying to stand up on my own but it was no use. My legs were limp and my energy was weak. I was lifted up off my feet, unaware of who was carrying me, but I didn't care because I was so tired. I was just glad that the Monster was gone and I was in safe arms once more. Oh, and of course I would always be the real Mitchie forever more.

_The eagle has finally flown for her last time_

_While the memories still sing on_


	14. Author's Ransom Note

Hey, it's Rockstarrxo15 / Xomehbabyxo. Whatever the username is. Thank you guys so much for reading this story, and this series. It truly means a lot to me.

I know that it took me a while to get off my butt and begin to write this second story, but to be honest, my brain was suffering a lot of writer's block with the stories I was writing at the time. I mean, it wasn't like I was going to forget to write this story. How could I not write a sequel to a story that has had over 20,000 hits? That's amazing. I just hope that this one gets read over 20,000 times, too.

You guys are the best. All of my readers. And honestly, I would not be writing if I didn't have any feedback or any hopes of continuation just to please you guys. It's tough pleasing you, but I've done it! I hope you guys love the rest of my stories. To be honest, they're probably not as good, but I grow as a writer. I'm presently writing a story called "Because You Love Me" (It's under Misc. Books if anyone feels like reading it).

Here's an excerpt:

There were only two things she never saw in the world. Actually, there were three. She never saw how independent she could be, and how beautiful she was without a man beside her. She always depended on what every one of them said, letting it rip her to shreds. Also, she never saw how every time she met a man here at Camry's, that it was never, ever true or even love at all, just a blind girl determined to feel loved when all the man wanted was sex—or they were just masochistic and vile. And three, she never saw that I loved her, and had always loved her.

Hope you guys liked reading Who Will I Be?!!!!!!

Xomehbabyxo / Rockstarrxo15


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